Dalish By Blood, Dalish By Bone
by xXEvasiveActionXx
Summary: Born of Dalish blood, Darron has never known anything but the forest and it's many sights and sounds. He had thought it would stay that way until he died, but one, fatal run in with three Shemlin turns his world up-side-down and forces him into one where his kind are not normally welcome.


**This is my first time writing a Dragon Age fanfiction, and it's told from the point of view of my Dalish Elf Grey Warden, Darron. It will follow the storyline of the game mostly, going through his choices, but to add my own personal touch I've decided to add a few characters in to the mix (of my own making) that will - hopefully - give it a unique touch.**

**All characters mentioned in the following chapter bar Darron are property of BioWare.  
**

* * *

_You find and old, tattered, black book sitting amidst piles and piles of codex pages, and decide to pick it up and inspect it. Upon opening it's dust laden cover, you see the words _The Elven Ruins _which have been neatly crossed out, and replaced with _Journal Of Darron_ then, scribbled in a more elegant hand, _Grey Warden to whom we owe our lives. _You continue to read._

Our leader was a sadist. This statement, if proven true, is bad regardless of circumstance. However, when applied to our race - the Dalish Elves - it is dangerous. I wager that you wonder why it is more dangerous for us. Well, I'll tell you.

When we Dalish folk come of age, we are given what we call a _Vallaslin, _which when translated into the language of humans, means blood writing. This writing is applied much like the tattoos that humans tend to brag about, though ours actually have meaning to them that rises above the name of a loved one, or a favourite object. Ours shows our personality, and quite literally makes us wear it. Unfortunately, these are more painful than human tattoos too, meaning that when our Keeper, who would be the equivalent of an Arl to a human, applies them they may make them as painful as they wish, or as painless as they wish by making certain decisions.

Our Keeper will always aim to draw tears, make you cry out in pain. So, as you can imagine, not many of us last the whole way through on the first go.

"Darron." He had that look in his eyes, our Keeper. It had the pride of knowing there would be another adult Dalish in our clan, mixed with the twinge of pleasure that he would be making someone else writhe in pain, perhaps even beg him to stop. Which he would do, and then inform them that they 'Were not ready' as they were 'Far too fragile.' Two sentences that I was not going to let him say to me.  
"Yes, Keeper?" I answered, not showing any expression. A smile crept across his face, like a snake slithering through the grass towards an unsuspecting mouse. His own Vallaslin served as the grass.  
"Come."

He guided me to the center of our encampment, seating me beside the still smouldering fire of the previous night and gathered his equipment. The needle was thin, and had a supply of organic dye fed into it via a long, winding tube. It would bring the blood to the surface of the skin and then the dye would give it colour, so it could vary from almost the same colour as the skin it would be applied to, to the darkest shades of red or blue found in plant life.

My own, I could see, would be black, to show the brashness of my personality no doubt, against the pale of my own skin. The extra malice I could see in his eyes also told me that my Vallaslin would most likely be quite detailed, and perhaps even have varying thicknesses of line to further pain me.

I could feel the eyes of my clan on me. The young stared in awe as the preparations were made. The old smiled as they slipped into reveries of their own coming of age. Those similar in age to myself winced in pain at the memory of their own Vallaslin. The needle touched my skin, and provided the first step in a waltz of agony that would alight on most of my face.

Blood blossomed against my lips, as the first of many lines was started. The needle travelled in a slightly curved line from the left of my mouth to my earlobe, and as soon as it was finished, it was gone over once more to thicken the line. It was soon about the same width as my finger.

I had managed to stay silent so far, but I could feel my vocal cords itching to make a sound. I would not allow it though. That would end the ritual, which was not something I would let happen. Tamlen would never let me live it down, so I distracted myself with the crowd once more. I found him, my oldest friend, smiling back at me with all the confidence of a hunter who has his prey caught in a caltrop trap. So I allowed my mouth to twitch up on the left side, forming a sort of half smirk through the burning pain while the Keeper worked on the other side of my mouth. It must have angered him, as the pain inflamed once more as the same process was repeated.

It felt like hours had passed when he finally finished, sure to draw back and scrutinize his work, add something some where on my face and then put down his tools. "It is done. Welcome to the ranks of the Dalish, Darron." I looked slowly around myself, taking in the pleased faces of my fellow Dalish and seeing my best friend with his arms folded over his chest, and a smile plastered on his face, distorting his own Vallaslin slightly. He tilted his head in the direction of our woods, silently asking me to come hunting. I acquiesced.

While out in the forest, looking for wolves or other stray animals to take back to camp, Tamlen did exactly what would expect a close friend to do. "So, Darron, did it hurt?" he pried, absent-mindedly looking around the forest, up at the canopy of the trees.  
"A little. But what do you care?" He hit me in the face with his bow. "Ow!"  
"So you lie too, huh? You're getting more like a Shemlin every day." Tamlen flashed a smile at me and began running. I followed without hesitation. No one calls me a human and gets away with it.

We both hurtled through the forest, dodging and weaving our way through the trees we knew so well, despite our near constant moving of camp. He was ahead of me by only a few paces when he stopped. I crashed into him, but made no noise, the same as when I had been written on by the Keeper. He put a finger to his lips, then burst from the line of trees.

I heard talking. My blood heated immediately, and I made my way towards Tamlen, bow already loaded and ready to fire. His eyes flickered to acknowledge my presence, but were soon trained on the three men in front of him once more. "You're just in time. I found these humans lurking in the bushes. Bandits no doubt."  
Three humans stood, all with looks on their faces that suggested they were too good to be in the company of Elves, in front of us, two helping a floored third to his feet. hey would think differently of our city-rooted counter parts they used as slaves and... _other things _back in their own cities. "We aren't bandits, I swear!" One protested, "Please don't hurt us!" Pathetic. Not so almighty now, huh?  
"You Shemlin are pathetic. It's hard to believe you ever drove us from our homeland." Tamlen voiced my opinion, and I found myself smiling on the inside. You could tell we had grown up together.  
"We've never done nothing to you Dalish!" Lies. All humans have done something. They have all thought ill of us, or of our kind. How was I to know if these in front of us had used our kind as slaves, or worse? "We didn't even know this forest was yours!"  
"This forest isn't ours, fool. You stumbled too close to our camp. You Shems are like vermin. We can't trust you not to make mischief." Tamlen looked to me once more, holding my gaze for a second before tearing it away to look at the humans again. "What do you say, lethallin? What shall we do with them?"

Curiosity. That was the overwhelming feeling I had, despite the burning of my face thanks to the Vallaslin and Tamlen's bow, and for those reasons, I chose to say, "Let's find out what they're doing here." and avoid fighting. If I was hit in the face, I would howl like a wolf putting weight on an injured leg.  
"Does it matter? Hunting or banditry we'll need to move camp if we let them live," Tamlen said, still staring intently at the men who now stood a little less tall, and looked far less argumentative.  
"L-look, we didn't come here to be trouble. We just found a cave-" One began, stuttering lightly. Much like our sadistic Keeper, I relished their fear.  
"Yes, a cave!" Another interrupted. Shems are always so inconsiderate. "With... ruins like I've never seen. We thought there might be... uh..."  
"Treasure? So you are more akin to thieves than actual bandits." Tamlen allowed a small laugh to pass his lips, as he seemed satisfied by this. A reason to kill them, perhaps. A reason to find these ruins? Definitely.

"Ha! I'd like to see these ruins." My tone was mocking, and I knew it. How could there be ruins we didn't know about?  
"So would I," Tamlen agreed, turning his head but not his eyes in my direction. "I've never heard of ruins in these parts."  
"But- ah... I have proof," the interrupter stated, taking a step forward and presenting something to us. "Here." His voice wavered. "We found this just inside, by the entrance."  
"This stone has... some carvings. Is this Elvish? Written Elvish?"Tamlen did not try to hide the incredulity in his voice, and I found myself becoming more and more intrigued.  
"There's- there's more in the ruins. We didn't get very far in though." The human seemed to be getting desperate now. Wanting to live at all costs.

"Why not?" I asked, raising a brow more out of amusement than genuine want of knowledge. I watched him swallow nervously, preparing to speak.  
"There was a demon. It was huge with big, black eyes! Thank The Maker we were able to out run it." No way. Thank their human god for their survival? Not possible. Tamlen made a disgruntled noise, agreeing with my thoughts once more.  
"A demon?" He didn't believe it either. "Where is this cave?" Curiosity had taken him too.  
"Just off the west I think. There's a cave in the rock face and a huge hole just inside it." Ever the unsure type. Stupid, stupid humans. Makes me wonder how we ever lost to these... beings.  
"Well, do you trust them? Shall we let them go?" I wondered that myself for a second, and then advised that we let them go, suggesting that he had scared them enough for them to leave us and our clan well alone. "Run along then, Shems, and don't come back until we Dalish have moved on."  
"Of course! Thank you, thank you!" One shouted, as the party fled.

Tamlen lowered his bow and took a few steps forward before turning to look at me. I had also lowered my own bow. "Well, shall we see if there is any truth to their story? These carvings make me curious."  
"Sounds like a good idea." I replied, shifting my weight from one foot to the other in anticipation.  
"And if we find anything, the Keeper will want to know," he added. Yes, and that would put us in his good books, I'm sure.

With the knowledge of the cave's whereabouts residing in the forefront of our minds, we set off in the direction the Shems had no doubt come from, making sure we had both long and short range weapons at hand. I myself preferred to use a pair of daggers, whereas Tamlen had always opted instead for a sword and shield. He presented himself as a warrior, as opposed to the roguish nature I tended to display. Not that the skills it had brought had not served me well, mind.

On our way, we found two wolves preying on a dead Halla, which was not unusual, but the protective nature we Dalish have for the species prompted us to preserve some dignity for the animal, and not allow it to become a wolf's dinner. They died easily, with empty bellies no doubt.

We also found some elfroot, which could be used to make health poultices with the proper skills, so we decided to take that along with us too, to give to the herbalist back in our camp upon our return.

As we reached the cave, Tamlen slowed to a stop and stated, "I don't recall seeing this before, do you?"  
"No, I don't. Let's check it out."  
"My thoughts exactly. With luck, we'll find something that will make us clan heroes." He had always fancied himself as a clan hero. Unfortunately, he would never make it quite that far, at least not in the eyes of the majority.

And so, we entered the cave. Oblivious of what was in store for us.

_You put your thumb between the pages and close the book, seeking a better place to read it. You soon find the stump of an old tree, chopped by a sharp axe by the look of it, and take a seat._


End file.
